Southern Comfort
by Makera Terroni
Summary: A vampire returns to the old Southern city she once called home, drawn there by a strange request. Do the Lords of Charleston really want to make peace with her?


The waves lapped up against the walls of the Battery, their song lulling the old city to sleep. The branches of the tall palmettos swayed in the warm breeze as cicadas chirped and buzzed. I leaned against the railings, relaxing in the smell of salt and the sight of moonlight on the dark water. Fort Sumter was out there somewhere; I could just barely pick out its dark bulk in the distance. Much as I had hesitated in coming, it felt good to be back in Charleston.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," a gentle voice said from behind me.

I turned to meet the smiling face of Telegraph Jack. He was strolling towards me, his footsteps not making a sound. Despite the warmth of the summer night, he wore a black coat that reached just past his knees, a black t-shirt, denim jeans, and worn hiking boots. The breeze ruffled his brown hair, which was streaked with white. His gray eyes gleamed.

"I should have known you'd be my contact, Tel," I said, my high-heeled boots clicking on the stones as I turned to face him. "Who else in Charleston would they send to meet me?"

"No one, kiddo." His strong arms wrapped around me in a brief embrace. I blinked in surprise; he must've missed me more than I thought. He glanced around the silent waterfront, his eyes searching for anyone who might spot us. Satisfied, he turned back to me.

"What say we go back to my place, Marian? It'll be morning soon enough, and people will start coming out. Not to mention the sun."

I hefted the bag that had been sitting at my feet. Slinging it over my shoulder, I nodded. "Lead the way. I heard you moved into a new place, right?"

"Yep, nice old house. A little musty, but it has a basement, believe it or not. Snatched it up the moment it was on the market. Nice place. We better hurry, though. It is a bit of a hike, and we don't want to be seen."

Memories flooded back as we walked briskly along the city's cobbled streets. I remembered the days when I had walked here in sunlight, carriages pulled by the finest Southern horses rattling through the crowded streets, coloreds dressed in servants' clothing standing outside houses to wait on their masters. The smells of salt and sweat mixed together, carried by the ocean breezes that were a blessing in the heat. But now I walked here in the night, and this was no longer the Charleston I had known.

"Here we are," Telegraph said as he approached the dark door of a house. Pulling a key from his pocket, he unlocked the door and held it open for me. I walked inside and he followed, shutting and locking the door behind him.

All the curtains were drawn on this floor, as I was sure they were on the upstairs floors as well. Telegraph gave me another grin as he led me through the narrow hallways to a small back room with a trapdoor set into the hardwood floor. The trapdoor was open, revealing a set of stairs leading down into a basement that flickered with candlelight.

"After you, madam."

I hurried down the steps, hearing Telegraph shut the trapdoor.

"Take a seat," he said. "And let's have something stronger than candlelight." I sat down gratefully as he flipped the switch for an overhead light. I found myself in a spacious room filled with old Victorian furniture. Bookshelves overflowing with leather-bound volumes lined the walls. Some of the books lay open on an oak desk, quill pens, ink wells, and paper scattered around them. Odd and ends were piled everywhere: an antique hourglass sitting on an end table, a sword in a glass case, thread-bare tapestries hanging from the walls, a complete suit of armor. I gratefully sank down into the cushions of a red velvet couch.

"I'll be right back," he said. "You need something to freshen you up after coming all the way from New York." He disappeared into another room. A moment later, he returned with a bottle in one hand and two goblets in the other. He set down a goblet on the low table in front of me, filling it with the red liquid inside the bottle.

"Drink that down, and then we'll discuss business." He settled down in the seat across from me.

"Thanks." I gave him another smile before tipping back the contents of the goblet into my mouth. A refreshing warmth spread down my throat and through my entire body, making my fingertips tingle with feeling. I emptied the goblet and filled it again to the brim.

Once I had my fill, I set down the goblet and closed my eyes, leaning against the soft cushions of the couch. The blood coursed through my empty veins, flooding my body with warmth and life.

"How long since you last fed, Marian?" Telegraph asked. Obviously, he hadn't expected me to drink so much.

"Maybe five months, I'm not sure. I don't exactly keep track."

He shook his head. "I thought you looked pale, even for a vampire. You should take better care of yourself, you know that. You'll get into trouble one of these days." He pulled a stack of papers to him. "But now that you're full, let's take a look at why you were summoned to Charleston."

I leaned forward, quite content now that I was full. "Yeah, let's do that. I'm a little curious as to why the people who seem to hate me so much were so keen on getting me here as soon as possible. Must be some tough job."

Telegraph laid out the papers neatly on the table, glancing over them. "From what I hear, it is. We're having some problems around here with 'church people.'"

"Interesting," I said, smirking. "And just what are these church people doing that has the Lords and Ladies worried enough to send for me?"

"Asking questions, too many questions. They've been going door-to-door, pretending to be Jehovah's Witnesses or something, but what they're really doing is looking for our kind or clues of our whereabouts. Word has it they've already kidnapped some of the weaker brethren and destroyed them."

I raised my eyebrows. "And they can't handle this little problem themselves?"

"No, for whatever reason, they can't seem to locate any of them. It's developing into a nasty problem, and the Lords are worried about them trying to attack higher ranks now. Marian, we all know you're an excellent spy. Have been all your life. Yeah, the Lords don't like you one bit for the spying you did against the South during the war or for the fact that you show them no respect, but they seem to be smart enough to know when to put their differences aside and ask for aid. Now, Lord Richard Pinckney has asked to meet you by the Old Market tomorrow night to discuss this further. What do you say?"

I leaned back again, my eyes on the ornate rug under the table as I considered this proposal. A grandfather clock on the wall ticked away the seconds. I let out a long sigh.

"All right, I suppose it won't hurt to at least see what's in it for me. Just let them know that meeting with him doesn't mean I'll take the job."

Telegraph smiled and restacked the papers. "Not a problem. I'm sure they'll be happy just to hear that you've agreed to meet with Pinckney. Just try not to be as rude as usual. Not that that's done, how are you doing up in New York?"

We stayed up a few more hours, chatting to pass the time until we both felt that dawn was breaking in the sky over Charleston. Telegraph showed me to a dark room where I could rest. He gave me a light squeeze on the shoulder and bade me good night.

---

The next night, I walked slowly along the street that ran the length of the Old Market, looking for the Lord I was supposed to meet with but also enjoying the scenery of the city. I hadn't been in Charleston since I had to flee because of my spy work done for the North during the Civil War. I had never cared for the Southern love for aristocracy or wealth and had admired the North for trying to keep the country together. So I had helped the North in any way I could, effectively making the higher-ranking vampires of the South hate my guts.

"Good evening to you, ma'am ," a deep, rich voice greeted me. It belonged to a tall, handsome man who was standing in the shadows cast by the Market buildings. He was well-dressed and well-groomed. Though his manner was polite, his eyes seemed to regard me with something close to disgust. I approached slowly, filled with the same feeling at the thought of meeting up with these people. They hated me, I hated them, and we both knew it. Yet they needed my help. I couldn't help but find it somewhat amusing.

"Lord Richard Pinckney, right?" I said, not bothering to shake the hand he extended to me.

He smiled, revealing perfect teeth. "Yes, that would be me. And you would be Marian. What do you say to sitting down somewhere comfortable to talk? I know a particularly fine restaurant not far from here where we can talk about this problem."

"Fine by me. Let's just make this as quick as possible."

"Certainly."

A silent walk of about ten minutes led us to an expensive restaurant not far from the waterfront. We walked inside, and Mr. Pinckney and I were immediately led to a quiet corner. Lord Richard asked for two wine glasses from the waiter before turning to me.

He kept his eyes and voice low, smoothing his napkin onto his lap. "Now then, did Mr. Jack explain everything to you?"

"Yeah, more or less. You're having some trouble with Jehovah's Witnesses?" I couldn't keep the amusement out of my voice. He shot me a glare.

"It's no laughing matter. They've managed to catch five of the youngsters, but we haven't caught any of them. Now, we all know what you did during the War, and we think you can use your skills to help us track down these people. Wipe them out permanently, if you'd be so kind. Ah, thank you," he said as the waiter set down two glasses and left again. Pinckney pulled out a wine bottle and poured out what at first appeared to be wine. I blinked in surprise; he was taking a risk, drinking blood in public like this. He must have been on good terms with the manager.

I took the glass he placed in front of me, taking a sip. I stretched an arm over the back of the booth. "What's in it for me?"

He gave me a thin smile. "I was waiting for you to ask that. Well, to begin with, we'd be willing to consider forgetting everything you did during the War, if that means anything to you. You could come back to Charleston. No one would bother you. Of course, there would be a rather nice money reward as well."

"Sounds good to me." I took another drink. "So, what information do you have for me?"

We talked for about an hour more. When we were finally finished, I stepped out gratefully into the night air. Lord Richard bade me farewell cheerfully, letting me know that he would inform his fellow Lords of my acceptance of this mission. I turned myself towards Telegraph Jack's. I was feeling drowsy, but I suppose it wasn't too surprising; the journey from New York had worn me out. Still, I felt more tired than I should have, considering I had slept like a rock the day before. Blinking and yawning, I began to stumble as I passed between the dark Southern homes. Before I knew it, I had tripped and fallen on my face. I felt incredibly dizzy and weak, the world spinning all around me.

"The hell…?" Then it snapped in my mind. The blood Lord Richard had offered me. It must have been poisoned or some kind of sleeping powder must have been mixed with it. Dimly, I remembered that I hadn't seen him drink from his glass once. I laughed harshly. I should've known better than to trust these Southern Lords who hated me more than anything.

"Gotta get to Tel's," I muttered, trying to shove myself to my feet.

"Are you all right?" a voice behind me asked. Footsteps came closer, and something came crashing down on my head.

---

I slowly woke to find myself tied to a chair in a dark room and with a terrible headache. Trying to shake off the drowsiness that still filled me, I looked up to see four men, all of them fairly young, in front of me. One of them was busy sorting through things on a table, but it was too dark and I was too groggy to see what they were.

"Why hello there, darlin'," said the grinning man closest to me. "Mr. Pinckney was kind enough to help us out a bit. Taking you head on would have been stupid. But now we've got you right where we want you. You won't be a problem now."

"Lord Richard...wait…You're the church people, aren't you?" The tongue felt thick and swollen; talking or even thinking straight was talking a huge effort.

They all stopped momentarily to glance at each other, their faces twisted with amusement. One of them nodded. "Yeah, sure. That's right. Apparently you haven't made too many friends higher up in the ranks. Your mistake."

The church people. So this was the little trap that the Lords had set up for me. And executed quite well. I ground my teeth, trying to focus as my head pounded with pain. I opened my eyes to see one of the four men in the room approach me with a sharpened stake. The others hung back, snickering. I forced a grim smile to my face.

"Do your worse."

"With pleasure." The man set the stake against my chest, right above my heart, and swung the hammer. I lurched as the wood broke through my undead flesh, ripping skin and snapping a rib. What little blood was still running through me from my visit with Lord Richard oozed from severed veins. The man swung his hammer again, and the stake ripped through my back and embedded itself in the wall behind me.

"There, I'm thinking that will do the trick."

I was silent for a moment, quivering, my head hanging. Then I laughed softly. "I'm surprised you assholes weren't told that all those myths and legends about vampires aren't always true." I lifted my head. "Stakes hurt, don't get me wrong. But they won't kill me."

My attacker snorted. "We already know that. Or didn't you notice?" He leaned in close, lips parted in a grin to reveal his fangs. "We're vampires, too."

Now I felt fear flood me. They would know all my weaknesses, everything that could hurt me or kill me because they were the same.

"But…church people…" I stammered.

They all laughed, the one nearest me kneeling down in front of me to be at eye-level. "Stupid girl. That was just the name we were told to use. All those youngsters that went missing? Yeah, that's us. We're just as undead as you, but the difference is we've got the Lords on our side. And they've said we're supposed to kill you, so that's what we're going to do."

"Not if I kill you all first!" a strong voice bellowed from the doorway. There were four sharp cracks as a gun fired, and the four men toppled to the floor, groaning. Before they had even hit the ground, Telegraph Jack had made his way across the room to me. He grasped the stake and yanked it out of my body, then sliced the ropes around me with a belt knife.

"I waited so long for you to come home, but you didn't." His voice was shaking. "I got worried, started looking, got it out of someone that they'd seen you…" Grabbing my hand, he hauled me to my feet and started to run. I stumbled along behind him, trying to keep up.

"There are others, and they'll have heard the gunshots," he said, never once slowing his pace. "We have to make it back to my house, and we have to hurry. Dawn's not far off."

I simply nodded and pumped my legs, knowing my life depended on it. As we emerged from the house, I found that he was right. The sky to the east was lightening. I glanced over my shoulder to see a group of maybe eight people pour from the house we had just fled. They glanced about, spotted us, and began to run. I glanced at the sky again and found new strength, the kind of strength that comes from desperation.

I don't know how long we ran; it couldn't have been more than maybe five minutes. It felt like a decade. Finally, Telegraph's house came into view as we burst around a corner, our feet pounding the pavement. I could hear our pursuers' cries not far behind, I could see the first ray of sunlight breaking over the rooftops, and I could feel my skin start to sizzle and burn.

"Almost there!" Telegraph shouted encouragement, though I thought I could detect pain in his voice. The sunlight was burning him, too.

We ran up the three steps to the door, the church people less than a hundred yards away. Telegraph threw open the door and threw me inside. I stumbled, surprised by his move, and fell to the floor. I turned just in time to see him flash me a sad smile and slam the door shut.

"No! Tel!"

I scrambled to my feet and ran forward, only to hastily backtrack as morning sunlight filtered through the curtains and crept along the floors. I stood shaking in the hallway, listening to the gunshots and screams, trembling from my fear of the sun. The golden glow filled the front room, and my skin crackled with the heat. Finally, I could stand the pain no longer and ran in shame to the basement.

---

Once night fell again, I crept from my hiding place to the front door. My hand shook as it grasped the handle. I stood silent for several long minutes, straining my ears for the slightest sound. Nothing stirred beyond the door.

I opened it slowly, peering outside. The street was silent and empty. Rough chalk outlines marked where the church people had fallen. I opened the door wider.

"Telegraph?" I whispered, daring to hope he might have found someplace to hide from the lethal sunlight.

"Tel?"

But I saw no one. I looked down at the top step. Gray ashes were scattered everywhere.

I went back inside. Fifteen minutes later, I came back out and shut the door behind me. I knew where I would be able to find the Lords and Ladies. Telegraph Jack had come for me, had saved my life only to lose his at the hands of youngsters who followed those Lords blindly. I ground my teeth, clenched my bag with white knuckles. All of this had happened because of my return to the city I had once called home. I knew I could never call it that again. But I could repay Telegraph for what he had done. I could at least remain loyal to him.

The warm Charleston breeze stirred the ashes into the air.


End file.
